


The Dragon and the Rose

by jeanvaljeanralphio



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanvaljeanralphio/pseuds/jeanvaljeanralphio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daenerys Targaryen now sits on the Iron Throne. The Tyrells decide to come for a visit, to convince her to marry one of their sons. But she only has eyes for their daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dragon and the Rose

She knew, from the beginning, that the Tyrells were coming to secure their place in court. Even without the warning from her Little Lion, she could smell it from miles away. Greed and flattery had a stench that Dany trained herself to spot out long ago. It made her sick to her stomach at times. She welcomed them graciously, though. She threw a feast, and listened to the incessant, unending prattle of Mace Tyrell. She met every member of the family, and found every eligible son boring. Sweet, of course, how could roses be anything else?

            But she couldn’t do a _thing_ with sweet, though.

            She rode with the Dothraki on horseback, and freed slaves. She raised dragons. She saved all Seven Kingdoms, and the lands beyond. Sweet could be good, but so boring. She needed excitement.

            “You don’t have to love them,” Tyrion Lannister told her the first night after they arrived. “You just have to marry one of them to ensure their loyalty.”

            “Why?” Daenerys challenged him every chance she got, and he did the same for her. It was how they worked so well together. “I have the Seven Kingdoms. I have the loyalty of all.”

            “As did your father,” he warned. “And your brother. Had they made wiser decisions, perhaps they would be here now to lecture you about marrying for politics.”

            She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she left him then. Dany had taken to wandering the halls as soon as she moved into the castle. Every step brought questions to mind that upset her, but she could not stop them. Did Rhaegar play on this floor as a child? Did her father walk down these stairs? Is this the room where she would have been born if the Usurper and his dogs had not pushed her mother from the city? Those were questions that could never be answered, at least not by anyone she knew.

            Of all places, she often found herself drawn to the gardens, even at night. They overlooked the Blackwater. She liked to imagine that, if she looked hard enough, she could see all the way to Braavos, and the little house with the red door. She could see clear across Essos to the Dothraki Sea, where her sun and stars lived and died. She could even see Slavers’ Bay, though imagining the burned husks that she left there made her cheeks burn and her insides hurt.

She failed the people of Meereen, of Yunkai, of Astapor. Would she fail the people of Westeros, too?

“Do you miss it?” She jumped at the sound of the voice behind her, and turned to see Margaery Tyrell sitting in the low branches of a blossoming tree.

“Do I miss what?” she returned. The Tyrell girl jumped down and landed, gracefully, amongst the tangled roots on the ground.

“Being over there, of course.” She gestured across the water as she approached Dany. There was no formality to the way she spoke, but no disrespect, either. “Don’t you miss it? I think I would. Over there, you were free. You were the _khaleesi_ , and you could run free. There are so many rules here. You have to sit in that horrible chair and do things as you’ve been told to.”

“This is my rightful place,” Daenerys asserted. “This is the seat of my ancestors. It’s where I belong.”

“If you say so,” the Tyrell girl laughed. Her face seemed to light up with laughter, even in the darkness. “It just seems like it would be more fun over there.”

She offered a flower she had plucked from her tree. Dany felt her herself blush.

“How long were you watching me?” she asked.

“I wasn’t watching. I happened to be sitting in there and then you came along. I didn’t think I was going to talk to you. But then my leg cramped, and I had to jump down.”

“What were you doing up there?”

The Tyrell girl shrugged.

“It smelled nice. There used to be a girl I was fond of… she loved these gardens and the sweet-smelling flowers. I miss having her around. Besides, I’ve always felt more comfortable around plants.”

“You’re a credit to your house,” Dany joked, and the Tyrell girl laughed again.

“You’re a credit to yours,” she said after a moment. She pressed the flower into Dany’s hand, and a kiss upon her cheek, before sauntering away.

It took a lot of will power for Daenerys Targaryen not to follow her that night, back down the path, and undoubtedly back to her bedroom. _I am the blood of the dragon_ , she told herself. _And I am supposed to marry one of her brothers_.

Shockingly, Mace Tyrell waited a full week before suggesting to her that she take one of his sons as husband. She agreed, as much as she hated to. Tyrion insisted on it.

“It makes sense, politically speaking,” he told her, and she knew he was right.

The next few weeks were filled with feasts and lunches and outings and hunts, so she might get to know each Tyrell boy better. They were allowing her to choose which one she’d like to marry. One of the benefits of being the queen. No matter how many deer they shot with arrows, or dance steps they knew, she could not shake her first impression of them. Sweet, so sweet, but boring.

Meanwhile, every night, she would walk through the gardens with Margaery Tyrell. The girl was fascinating. She was adventurous and funny and kind. It took only three days after her father’s proposal of sorts for her to kiss Dany on the mouth. There was nothing shy about it. They stood under the blossoming tree where they first met, and Margaery pulled their faces together, and that was it. Dany kissed her back, hungrily. She tasted of honey and salt, and her skin was smooth, and her hair was soft between her fingers. When Margaery pulled away, Dany groaned with disappointment and wanting.

“We’ll meet again tomorrow, Your Grace,” she promised with a smile, and then she was gone.

They did meet again the next day, but in the Royal bedroom. Margaery arrived just before their usual meeting time, and immediately kissed her. They moved over to the bed, fumbling to get their gowns off, and slid under the covers. Margaery straddled her and let her hands roam over her naked chest while Dany slid a hand down to feel how slick the Tyrell girl was between her legs. She moved her fingers inside her and Margaery moaned in her lap. She kept moving them while Margaery kissed her neck and breathed her name into her ear.

“Daenerys,” she murmured between sighs. “Daenerys.”

The next morning they dressed quickly and went down to breakfast, where Dany announced that she’d like Margaery to be her bedfellow. Mace was elated, thinking this meant she was warming up to the family, while she exchanged a smirk with the Tyrell girl.

Day by day, she followed the same routine. Hunts, dances, tourneys, meals, seated by Tyrell men. Then, at night, she and Margaery would taste each other, and feel each other, and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Two weeks went by, and then Mace asked her what her choice was. Who would she pick to be her husband? She told him to give her the night. She’d hold court in the morning and announce her choice there. He was satisfied by the deal, so she ran to Tyrion and told him everything.

“Are you mad?” he asked. “Mace Tyrell comes here to offer you the choice of his sons, and you start fucking his daughter instead?”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Dany hissed. “I don’t want the entire city to know.”

“It doesn’t matter either way. If the city hears it, we’ll say it’s just a rumor. One that will be squashed, by the way, when you marry one of the Tyrell boys.”

“Which is the real reason I came to you tonight. Which one should I pick?”

Tyrion made a face.

“Oh, I don’t know. They’re all mostly the same, aren’t they?”

“More or less.”

“Pick the second one. Whatever his name is.”

“Garlan,” he told him. “Why him?”

“Well, the oldest is the heir, and the youngest prefers men. Although, that might be quite the match,” he teased, and Dany threw a cushion at him.

“That’s not funny.”

“Oh, my queen. You are wise, and beautiful, and sometimes terrifying. But you apparently know nothing of humor.”

“What would happen if I picked Margaery? If I wanted to marry, not a son of House Tyrell, but a daughter?”

“I don’t know, Your Grace,” he answered, somewhat sadly. “I wouldn’t risk it, though.”

She went back to her room, then, and spent the night with her tongue buried inside Margaery before drifting to sleep by her side. The next morning dawned too soon, and she was awoken by a tingling sensation on her lower lips.

“Good morning to you, too,” she said to Margaery, whose head was currently between her legs, her tongue fitting its way through all of the folds of her cunt. Dany laid back on her pillows and let her body take over, until she was gasping and Margaery emerged, smiling, to kiss her good morning and snuggle herself back into her chest.

“Today’s the day, isn’t it?” she asked after several long minutes.

“Yes,” Dany breathed.

“You have to pick one of them?”

“I have to.”

Dany felt Margaery nod, her hair brushing across her stomach, and she wished she could stay there forever.

“I’ve quite enjoyed this. Our time together,” Margaery said, almost in a whisper. “I’ve grown… I’m quite…”

“I know,” Dany replied. “Me, too.”

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, then dressed in a hurry to rush down to the throne room. Margaery joined her family at the front of the small crowd, while Dany had to move around, through the walls almost, to enter through the back door. All fell silent when she entered. Tyrion nodded at her from his chair beside the throne and mouthed _Garlan_. The Tyrells were there, front and center, as well as all the other Lords and Ladies that were in the city. The small council sat at a long table before the throne. Daenerys started to climb the stairs, then stopped part way. She looked down to Tyrion, who mouthed _Garlan_ again, and kept climbing until she could seat herself, as comfortably as possible, on the twisted and sharp chair forged by her ancestor.

“Daenerys of House Targaryen,” Tyrion called out below her. “Called Daenerys Stormborn. First of her name. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Realm.”

Mace Tyrell stepped forward immediately.

“If it please Your Grace,” he began. “You agreed some weeks back to marry one of my sons. And, I believe, the time has come for you to tell your people which one.”

_If I was still a_ khaleesi, _you would not dare to speak to me this way_ , she thought. _I would take whom I wish for husband, and you would cower at my feet_. She looked to Margaery then. Her eyes sparkled with silent tears, and somehow Dany knew her answer.

“Lords and Ladies, and smallfolk, of Westeros,” she began. “And Lord Tyrell. I cannot take any of your sons as my husband.”

The hall erupted in shouts and angry yells. Mace Tyrell had gone white as snow, and then quickly turned bright red.

“You promised,” he called out. “You swore.”

“And you did not let me finish,” she replied in a clear, commanding voice, and the hall fell silent again. She stood up and began to descend. As she went, she caught Tyrion’s eye. She expected him to be angry, but he looked almost proud. She smiled at him and continued walking down the steps of the throne. She stopped when she reached the floor. “I do not wish to marry any of your sons. I wish to marry your daughter.”

More shouts. More yells. More general outrage. Margaery’s face lit up in the crowd, acting like a beacon for her.

“You can’t,” Mace Tyrell said. “Marriage is between male and female—“

“That was true in the old regime,” Daenerys told him in that same commanding voice. “But I am now the queen, Lord Tyrell, and I am in love with your daughter.”

Absolute, deafening silence.

“If I may,” Tyrion said from behind her. “It’s not strictly outlawed.”

“What do you know, Imp?” Mace Tyrell snapped.

“Well, you see, it’s part of my job to know the laws of the land. You used to be Hand, Mace. I thought you knew what the job entailed.”

Dany turned and beamed at him. He nodded his encouragement.

“I don’t care what the Imp says—“

“I would thank you,” Daenerys said sternly, “not to refer to my Hand by that name while you are in my realm. Do not forget that I do have dragons, even if they are now too large to be with me in this hall.”

“Y-yes, Your Grace,” he said, backing down at her threat. “And you, of course, can marry Margaery. Marry my daughter, of course. If she wants to, that is. I don’t want Margaery marrying anyone she doesn’t want to.”

“But I do,” Margaery said. She stepped out of the crowd just then to approach the throne. Dany met her halfway on the floor and they embraced. “I do want to marry her. I love her, father.”

They looked at each other, and, in front of the entire court and all the Seven, Daenerys kissed her. The people gasped, some were still angry, and others even left at that point. But Dany didn’t care. She kept kissing Margaery. She wanted to keep kissing her for as long as she could.


End file.
